She narrowed her eyes and looked back up at him. “I’ll be right back.” Then she stalked off toward her patrol car, his license and registration still in her hand.
All part of the scare tactic. Make ’em sweat.
Brock knew the drill.
Not that he’d ever been pulled over before, despite his need for speed, but he’d been in the passenger seat enough times with friends who were pulled over to know she was going to take her sweet-ass time coming back.
She hoped to come back to a truck where a frazzled driver waited. Ready to confess that he had indeed been speeding, had jaywalked yesterday and may or may not have a dead body in the back of the cab.
But Brock Hart was no ordinary man.
No ordinary driver.
It took more than being pulled over for speeding and waiting for a cop—a hot cop no less—to rattle his nerves. So instead he simply watched the headlights of the oncoming traffic and the rain bead down the passenger window in meandering rivers.
To his surprise, she didn’t make him wait. Within three minutes, she was swaying her saucy little hips back to the truck, a smug smirk on those sensuous lips.
She glanced down at his license and then back up at him. Yeah, he didn’t look at all like his picture. His buzz cut had grown out a bit, he had what his mother called “a permanent five o’clock shadow” on his jaw, and his face had filled out a bit. That picture felt like a lifetime ago. Taken just days after he’d returned from his final mission overseas. The only thing that would never change were his green eyes.
She squinted at him and then back down at his driver’s license again. “You may not have been speeding, Mr. Hart. It would appear I mistook you for the car behind you, but your headlight is out and that’s a”—she began filling out the citation on her citation pad—“sixty-dollar fine.” She licked her lips and swallowed a few times.
He smiled, a real rarity for him, but for some reason this woman pulled it from him. “All right, but just so you know, generally, a blown headlight usually results in a verbal warning, at the very most a written warning.”
Her head jerked, and she nearly dropped her pen. “You a cop?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “No. But I know how it goes.” He enjoyed the dash of red that raced across her face. “Plus, I’m heading home right now to go change it.” He grabbed it off the passenger seat and held it up. “This is the new light right here. And if you issue me the ticket, I can just dispute it in court once it’s fixed.”
She looked like she was about to puke. “Did you keep your receipt?”
“Yes.”
A big ol’ lie.
She puffed up her chest, pushing her breasts toward him, and he couldn’t stop himself. As hard as he tried to keep his eyes on her face, he let them fall to the name plate on her chest for just a second,Constable K. Matthews.She caught him looking and made a noise in her throat, which forced his eyes to fly back up to hers. Her jaw was clenched firm, and the flush that had been snaking its way up her neck and cheeks now worked its way into her hairline. The woman was the color of a poppy.
“Listen, don’t tell me how to do my job. Yes, a warning is typical, but if I want to issue you a fine, I will.”
He liked her fire.
He bit the inside of his cheek. He was determined not to smirk if it killed him. “Sorry, officer.”
She huffed, a little bit of wind appearing to have re-entered her sails. Her blueeyes glowed in an oncoming headlight. “Just get out of here … and it’sconstable.” The last part was whispered so low he could hardly hear her. She handed him back his information and, without looking back, headed toward her car.
Brock shifted in his seat, the half-chub in his pants twitching uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.
Well, that was weird.
For some strange reason, as he pulled back out into traffic, he felt lighter, less angry. The red in his vision was less scarlet and more of a burnt orange, kind of like Constable Matthews’s hair …
Chapter 2
“Another beer?” Mickey asked.
Brock nodded.
“So, how’s your mum?”
Mindlessly shelling a peanut, Brock tossed the husk onto the bar in front of him before popping the nut into his mouth and nodded. “Good, good.”
